


Guilt and Regret

by sureva



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Flashback, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Loss, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-03-02 17:36:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13323111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sureva/pseuds/sureva
Summary: “I used to think you died there, you know… That you were dead”.The words barely left. He must have spent a lot of his soul thinking of it, if Shiro had perished protecting him. Upon the return of that thought, Matt’s expression hardened. He brought his chin up, directing his serious gaze straight into the man.“I thought it was my fault”.





	1. Chapter 1

The room was dark.

Their prison cell consisted of a bunk bed, a small window, and a heavy iron door, behind of which footsteps could be heard from time to time. It was their first night there; everything still new and inviolable, the two humans including. Lonesome souls quietly inhabited the space, slowly shriveling into the night.

Shiro laid in the bottom bunk, not being able to catch a wink of sleep. Tossing and turning, the man tried to shake the painful awareness like a heavy blanket, without success. And for a thousandth time that night, he found himself laying on his back, limbs aching. Wondering how many hours had it been, them laying in the dark, forgotten by the universe? Shiro tried to keep up with the time, but it seemed to flow differently while in space. It was impossible to determine if it had ceased to stagnation, or accelerated its speed -yet, would obtaining the knowledge bring any stability into their pitch black void after all? Shiro doubted it, and never achieving it, settled to regress back to the straining ignorance. The matter slipped into oblivion; but what had happened earlier that day kept ringing in the man’s ears relentlessly. In it, sleeping became inconsiderable; snatched away from him. Shiro ended up ditching the idea altogether, for his disordered feelings kept reflecting his mistakes for him, denouncing what he had done and what he hadn’t. And the day’s events blanketed the man like a curtain of steel, making his body feel heavy as if he was sinking through the mattress in cement shoes. 

 

Matt let out an indistinguishable sound in the bunk above. Shiro turned his attention from the burning feeling in his stomach to him with relief; and for a short while, let his incoherent breathing be the only thing he agreed to listen. He tried picturing the boy, who laid in the upper bunk, forehead against the wall. Curled up into a fetal position, hands around himself, he was cold in all the sadness living in there. Suddenly, Shiro regretted creating the image, shaking his head sharply in order to shed it off. The soft presence filling the room came across comforting yet grievous, and he couldn’t cope with that conflict, not now. The soft fuzziness of darkness was only interrupted with occasional sobs -although Matt was doing everything in his power to cover them up, it was pretty obvious. The weak sounds escaping him plunged Shiro’s heart even deeper, making his already agitated thoughts skyrocket into chaos.

 

What in the world had they done, to ever deserve their fate? Shiro could’ve accepted it if there was a reason: but there wasn’t, and their pain emerged unjust and despairing. To save at least the Holts from it had been his top priority, yet he had failed miserably. Desperately seeking some sense within, Shiro skipped through the chain of events that had led to that, for the thousandth time that night. 

 

The reel started rotating from the very beginning. Their mission had been just plain old sample collecting -relatively simple, if you take away the fact that they were the farthest humankind had ever travelled. The journey had taken months; you wouldn’t suppose living in a tiny space shuttle for so long would be very delightful, but for Shiro, it was. In fact, it was the happiest frame of time he had ever experienced. 

They had been so full of excitement, joy and pride for their mission; the feeling still lived brightly and colorfully through his memories. In that dark place they had ended up to, clinging onto that feeling brought the man great solace. 

Sharing the ship with Kerberos Mission Commander Samuel Holt, whom he looked up to had been an honor in itself. Yet, Matt Holt as a travelling companion had been an absolute pleasure.

That boy never did stop grinning, or so he had thought -he was goofy and a bit of a nerd, which made the combination all more better. Their small, intriguing moments in that cramped space vehicle, a long past their scheduled sleeping time were the ones that Shiro cherished the most. Matt’s smile seemed to be a light that never went out, for it decorated his face whenever their eyes met. Just the concept of it brought Shiro the warmth he desperately needed in the present moment.  


Continuing the film, another images popped up from his subconscious. How Matt would never stop talking if he got too excited over some scientific stuff, how his hair used to be all over the place… Shiro had taken note on every adorable habit, most of which the other male was probably not aware of. The man’s eyes were keen on following his fingers, which were constantly raised to fiddle imaginary glasses on his nose. Matt kept forgetting that he no longer had them, and Shiro loved every single part of it.

 

Matt let out a heartbreaking sob. Shiro was pulled back from the fond memories by it, his high spirits instantly plummeting. A painful reminder was delivered to him; those days were over. All the static, familiar things had been traded for the uncertainty, and the torment of not knowing what was going to happen. Wasn’t it cruel, how the universe treated them? Shiro felt like they were drifting in space, directions inconsistent -which wasn’t far from truth, because they were in fact sailing through the nothingness on board of an enormous alien vehicle. The mere size of it made Shiro’s stomach turn; it was too immerse to grasp, so he preferred to not think about it.

 

Back on earth, they had wondered if there was others out there, who like humans could dream and build and lead a beautiful life. What they hadn’t considered was their own limitations of imagination, for the reality had turned out to be a lot more than a fantasy. They had met all those species, technology, and architecture so complicated and multiform they couldn’t have ever imagine, all on that one ship. It made the man feel partly anxious, yet partly hopeful -for if it was possible of that kind of vast, black-purple entity of evil to exist, surely there had to be at least as great deal of goodness out there. That confident thought was the one Shiro put his faith into. They would get out of that prison.

 

However, not for quite some time, it was evident. In the galra prison, relief was not a known concept. If something, it was what the inmates there had been dreaming of for countless nights, even centuries before the first humans were brought in. It was hoping and praying in every language, reaching for that ecstatic dream, a fever of shared consciousness; freedom. Yet the movement was silent, hidden -how else it could’ve been, in a place where even hope was out of bounds? It wasn’t unusual to see a fool reaching for it being taken down. 

There were so many of them, and they were all linked together by that common homesickness. Everything laid open on where they had come from, from the tasks they hadn’t had the time to bring closure to, to the tasks they hadn’t been allowed to initiate. Millions of kilometers from their homes, from whatever part of the galaxy they were, other than Earth. All robbed from their lives and families, and brought into that hellhole. The same thing had happened to them; the story wasn’t new -but the friendly and benevolent creatures were out of place there. The tree humans and the god-knows-how-many aliens, all floated together in the same zero gravity void. Shiro remembered gazing through the small space shuttle windows as they passed by, his head craving to catch a glimpse of something familiar. But all there was to be found was the infinity; distant stars and constellations, spinning of galaxies and the milky way. Shiro couldn’t find anything from that limitless blackness that could’ve helped him to pinpoint their location. He would’ve wanted to feel his feet solid on the ground again.

 

Their way to the final execution was hellish. Pushed and shoved like animals, along with other unfortunate souls, the three astronauts pondered if their final destiny would turn out a nightmare or a daydream. A grand hall unfolded after the crowded hallway; it took Shiro’s breath away with its sheer size only, for it was so vast it could’ve fit half the galaxy in. Standing on some sort of a mat that moved them forward, they were lined up with the other convicts. 

Shiro closed his eyes, and brought the view around him once more. The walls were iron. The floor tiles were iron. Hell, even the guards hearts must have been iron, Shiro thought. And it was _cold_ -diving into the image, he could almost feel it seeping through his skin. Opening his eyes, Shiro was once again standing on that line. Looking down, he saw his feet against the metal, clothed in the skintight prison suit. All around him stood the outcast of the galaxy, all put together in that intergalactic melting pot that knew no race, status or face. They were all wearing the same black-purple uniform regardless of size or number of limbs. There, they were an anonymous mass, stripped down of their ambitions, dreams and hopes for the sake of unity. Together, they were all no one’s, and it made Shiro sick.

The foreign arrivals concourse was the place where the lost individuality thickened to the limits. Shiro could feel the uneasiness prickle at his very fingertips. He realized that they had became a part of a monstrous system, an impeller of which they had no control over. The realization was devastating and came abruptly, and the man couldn’t figure out how to keep it from his counterparts. The two members of the Holt family stood on the line before him. Dad was first, to face the unknown with bravery as the oldest one of the crew, and Matt stood quietly behind him. Shiro fulfilled his purpose in watching over them; he was oddly fond of that small family, and swore to do anything in his power to protect them. After the succeeded landing and the abduct, Shiro had been in and out of conscious so he had missed some of the loops in the chain of events. Despite of it, he remembered voicing an opposition against some Commander in the first cruiser they had been on; it had fell for deaf ears, and he had blacked out right after. It confirmed his fear; the Empire would not let them go. It became another thing that he would not mention to the Holts.

 

The Senior Officer was talking, but his words were snatched away, into the hum. Shiro watched silently as Matt gathered his father’s talk, making a sound of understanding here and there. The small interaction was worth gold there; although they didn’t reach his ears, Shiro knew that his words were comforting ones, and that’s what the poor boy needed the most at the moment. Matt’s head was slumped forward, and Shiro had his eyes fixed on the sweet spot on his neck, the one that was only revealed from underneath that tousled hair when he plunged his head like that. Despite of the consolation, the small streak of skin showing above the turtleneck was on goosebumps. Shiro noticed that he was shaking; his shoulders trembled like the surface of water trembles, struggling against winds. 

 

Shiro blinked himself back into the dark room abruptly, trying to avoid the following thread of thoughts. But the image of Matt, standing right there in front of him, yet millions of light years away -it was stronger, growing impossible to dismiss. The boy, who concentrated on his father’s words to have at least something to hold on to, was the main inhibitor of his sleep. The image contained so much conflict and complicated feelings, that it made his head hurt when trying to grasp them.  


 

Shiro sought to shed off the curse, and let the scene continue. The line, the unbearable crowd of foreigners invaded his thoughts again. Demanding attention from inside his head, those weird colors, smells, and sounds took over his senses, as if he hadn’t had a drop of that mess discarded from his system. The hallway, turbid with crying and alien language and robot sounds, seemed to enter their room now, making Shiro’s hands shake. And it didn’t relent, but the sensory overload felt like his human brain wasn’t enough to process all the new information, but was left perplexed in that endless hurricane of a hum.

The purgatory seemed to last all eternity, although they only occupied it for a short while. On a cloud over them, a league of angels with harpoons on their soft hands watched over the heathens. Except that it was a watchtower, and its residents were robots with grey, skinny limbs and no eyes; a high-tech laser guns ready to kill an odd one. Their presence created an oppressive feeling over the already chaotic situation, causing slight panic in some of the individuals.

Nevertheless, the system did not pity its unwanted parts, but continued to run flawlessly. As our space travelers got closer, they saw that the line was branching into two; left and right. The new paths led to behind iron doors, that opened and closed in synchronization with a light, which then was controlled by a monitor above. If the robots were angels, then the monitor was an eye of God. It saw everyone and everything in the hall, extending its view so it could peek into every part of the universe and into their souls. Shiro felt shivers jolt down his spine as it overlooked them, and brought his own eyes away.

 

The system was simple: a prisoner was brought to the intersection by the mat. Above the selection platform located a scanner, and after a quick check, either red or green light would light up according to the information harvested. Their direction would be determined by the lights; depending on the color, either left or right gate would open and they would slide behind metallic door frames. Despite of the obvious things, the meaning behind the selection was blurred. The purpose of those lights, and the difference between the two identical doors were only raising more questions. And the greatest mystery of them all was: _What happened behind those doors?_

Shiro observed creatures who were selected to enter each door. The process functioned faultlessly; the species were categorized in such a fast pace that it was hard to get a grip of their criteria. The question that silently welled in the minds of all three was the same; would they be selected into the same category? If not, would they ever see each other again? The trial neared faster than Shiro’s overloaded brain could work his way through it, so by the time the trio reached the monitor, he hadn’t figured out the purpose of all that.

 

First on the line was Samuel. He granted a quick glance towards his son, and nodded; it was meant to convince that whatever would happen, the younger astronauts should halt from worrying. Shiro had always admired the Mission Commander’s ability to lead and soothe masses; but wearing a prisoner uniform instead of that of a space officer, his aura was different. Now, he came across but a regular, fragile old man, standing on a line with other castaways. Officer Holt ascended to the level and underwent the scanning; the light above him turned red, and the gate opened to the left. The whole process was over in a matter of seconds. The man had barely disappeared behind the iron doors, when it was Matt’s turn to step up.

 

The light’s arbitrariness felt like a matter of life and death. Shiro had calculated that the red light had lit up a fraction more of the times -the specific color seemed to be in God’s favor that day. Whatever the case, he prayed for the sake of that poor boy that it’d pick that for him, too. For at that point, he didn’t care about his own fate anymore; any light would lit up for him, as long as the family stayed united.

 

Matt attempted to the level. His legs were shaking -the comforting figure had disappeared from in front of him, so it must’ve felt like he was all alone against the cruel world. And although Shiro stood right behind him, for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to remind the boy of that. He would regret that deeply afterwards; for not giving him the reassurance he would’ve needed in that moment. Instead, he stood silent, watching the ritual as if through a glass.

The machine did a quick scanning, the eye of the God contemplating his destiny. Matt stood on the level, hands forming two shaky fists, knuckles white. The anticipation, the anxiety and the fear had filled the room so thickly that there were no gaps for air -Shiro held his breath, feeling the strange sensation creeping up to him. No matter how much he would’ve wanted to just grab the boy and ran to the left, he knew that disturbing the process could turn out fatal. So again, he held back afraid, and let the greater power calculate their condemnation.

 

 

The light turned green.

 

 

Matt stared straight into it. The light blinked back, unflinching and merciless. The door opened to the right as per the rule, but he didn’t move. He seemed to have freezed, turned to an ice so hard he would not attempt to obey. Shiro couldn’t tell the emotion behind it; he was just as shocked and unwilling to believe the order as him. Eyes glued to the light, he hoped it’d still switch to red by the power of thought, and let their story have a happy ending.

The line behind them started to move restlessly, gossiping and fumbling as they tried to see what had caused the stalling. Afraid of the overseeing eye, the creatures pushed the last human forward, presumably to get the other one to move out of the way. Shiro had no other option but to get to the platform under the pressure: he jumped to the patch, and the program sensed a new examinee, closing the door in delusion. It caused a panic; both of the doors were shut now, with two people on the stage. The hassle created attracted the guards’ attention.

 

Meanwhile, Matt had moved over to the left door. Banging the raised wall with two fists, he yelled at the deaf iron, begging it to let him in, to let him go with him. Loud thumps echoed from the hallway walls, accompanied with his pleas that were getting more desperate, more intense. Now guards from every direction neared the end of the line where they stood; Shiro knew that it was up to him at that point. The heartless machines would know no mercy, and looking for a way out of it, the man’s protective instincts kicked in. The plan clarified in his mind suddenly, and as soon as the light turned green for him too, he acted. Turning left, he heard the door shift open behind them as he reached for the boy. Grabbing Matt’s shoulder, Shiro spinned him around.

 

Matt’s face was streaming with tears. It freezed him for a second: he had never seen him crying before. Shiro hesitated; a flash of Matt smiling, in his space suit inside their shuttle, reaching for the imaginary glasses filled his vision. _This will hurt him_ , the truth crossed his mind. It was evident, yet now he was in front of the decision between his feelings and their life. His hesitation had already costed them a few important seconds; the evil would reach them any moment now. What was he doing? So heart slashed, knowing how much Matt would hate him, Shiro fulfilled his plan. Grabbing him by waist, he apologized him for a thousand times in his head, and pulled the boy within. Matt caught on fast, and fought back with all his might as he was forcibly dragged towards the open door on the right. He would not go there, not without his father: and made it clear, begging Shiro to not do it, to not take him there. But the guards arrived, and as much as it hurt him, Shiro had to take advantage of his size and strength in order to force him in.

The doors slammed shut between the lifeless robots and the two humans. In a whoosh, the sharp sounds of weapons and yelling changed to a heavy silence. The bright spotlights were cut off by the closure in front of them; now, they were hemmed in by a relieving dimness. Shiro noticed that they were yet stopped, but moving forward leisurely on a mat similar. His arms were still around Matt’s shoulders, his chest still heaving after the strain, and their panting was the only sound distinguishable in the dark tunnel. Matt was recovering from the shock, gasping for air suddenly when another disappointment kicked in. Another wall closed between him and his father was too much; they were again one step further from going home together, one step further from rescue. It was too late to fight against it; he knew it, yet couldn’t accept it -leaning against his cage, a fresh wave of pain drowned out his words under the flood. All that was left was a wail, that run from his lips like a dam giving up in spring. Breaking out, he wailed and wailed until his lungs supported his voice no more, until his agony was muffled into the fuzzy darkness of the night, while echoing from further, and fading into the distance… All that time Shiro held him tightly, arms around his frame as if he was unable to detach them. Matt’s voice stung his heartstrings, while his own voice had vanished into the deep regret as they moved through the dark alley together, another road to unknown unfolding in front of them.  


 

The line eventually led to a container of a sort -department of cells, where they were assigned to their current one. Landing in the dark room, to where he was laying Shiro sighed, turning on his side. Matt hadn’t spoke a word to him since the clash, which was understandable -yet the time without hearing his voice felt like decades by now. The man had got used to his joyful little chatter, and the silence only mocked him for how much he missed it.  
The same image came. Matt, back turned to him, in front of him on the line. Already quivering, shoulders trembling to give out the message: _I’m afraid._  


_I don’t know what to do._  


And that time, Shiro didn’t try to flee from it, but surrendered to the thought entirely. Staring at his hands, the man pressed his palm into a fist, just like he had done back then. Why hadn’t he said anything there? What had stopped him from acting? Was it the millions of eyes around them, the publicity invalidating the intention of intimacy? In his head, he pressed his palms on those anxiously shaking shoulders, steadying them and told him over and over again _it’s fine, it’s alright to be scared_ , and the most important part, _I’m here…_ The comforting play kept repeating, revolting in his head as if going through it enough times would make even some part of it true. Yet, at the end he had to face the truth; he hadn’t done anything for him.  


How much would’ve a simple touch or a friendly word meant there? A world, if the outcome was to judge. Shiro would never want to see that expression on his face again. The fact that he had been an useless friend to Matt made him feel uneasy in his skin; he didn’t deserve any of it. He himself had nothing to lose, but the boy had lost his family, his hope for future, his smile in just one day. Matt grieved over his father; he didn’t know if he had got disposed after the red door, if he was still alive -neither of them did. He was in pain, and his pain became a knife which turned in Shiro’s heart every time his ears registered another muffled sob in the soft silence of their room.  


 

He wanted to wipe that expression off his face. Milling around in the anxiety of it, the conflict of hurting Matt while trying to protect him, Shiro pondered how he could make it up to him. They were best friends, but for some time, he had known that he wanted to be even more than that… And what was driving him right now was the wish to not end it there. For there was still so much Shiro wanted to achieve with him. He didn’t even miss Earth, for he would love his life wherever he was with Matt. Why did they need to spiral down, before he could recognize his feelings? In that dark room, in an unknown place, everything fell distant and Shiro had no control over it… He felt like he didn’t know Matt at all anymore. He had had so much time with him, so many opportunities, all of which he had passed in his insecurity. And now, it had come to this.  


Shiro couldn’t live with his guilt any longer. He threw his legs over the edge of the bed, soles firmly against the floor. Bending forward, he peered up to the upper bunk to catch a glimpse of him, but the mattress seemed to have swallowed the smaller boy whole, not leaving strand of hair behind. The man cleared his throat.  


 

“Matthew-” the man sighed.  


“Matt. Please, come down”.  


 

Shiro corrected himself into using his nickname. They had been robbed from all the formality anyways; the positions and titles didn’t matter anymore. It was a blessing in a way, as the man wanted to establish as safe sounding invitation as possible. He wanted to win back the boy’s trust more than anything.  


Yet, the silence descended back to just where it had laid before those words had been expressed. Shiro sat on his spot patiently, fingers casually crossed as if for a prayer. Nervous if anything would change after all, if the faith between them couldn’t be restored he waited, anxiety tangling a tight knot in his stomach. Finally, his persuasion worked. Shiro heard the covers shuffle as the boy did what he had been told, soon appearing on sight.  


 

Matt looked _sad_. His brown hair dangled flattened all over his face as he stood valiantly in front of him, almost overdoing the cover-up of his feelings. No matter how much effort he had poured into it, his shaking fists and tightly sealed lips gave it away. He looked as if he was to open his mouth now, an ocean of sadness would escape him.  


 

Matt’s faked courage wrecked Shiro’s hope. It wasn’t what he had required within his plea. He didn’t know why Matt felt the need to put up a brave face for him, when all he wanted was his raw emotions. Yet, as if there was something to be embarrassed about in his moment of weakness, he concealed it. Discouraged by the nonexistent amount of trust that was left between them, Shiro couldn’t find any words. Staring up to the boy, he sought signs of something genuine, but found more upsetting things instead.  


There was not a hint of that familiar spark of joy detectable on his face. Shiro knew him from inside out, they had had so much time to get familiar within the other; and he knew that the boy was kind and smart and brave and funny, but the place didn’t allow any of those traits to draw out. Instead, the boy was an epitome of anxiety, hopelessness redefining his features. He had granted Shiro the privilege to join in his little victories, but he had never let him know his sadness. The man guessed that he felt like it was ill-fitting for his image, and that nobody would want to see it there. Matt’s appearance suggested Shiro of a stray kitten, one that had been left behind in the rain on a cardboard box. He felt guilty, as he had been the one to do the abandoning; letting the boy soak in his tears.  


 

They stayed put, face to face, and the man tried to think how he had planned to continue after Matt would get down. Surely he had had a plan, right? However, not a single thing came to his mind; and soon it was occupied with something else as a certain detail caught his eye.  


Matt was tearing up again. He was losing the fight, judging by the way his breathing destabilized and eyes unfocused. Shiro felt like halting the drain, but was overthrown by his own limits. From where could he pull the courage he needed, when he himself didn’t know what was going to happen? Soon the drops would bead his cheeks stubbornly, although he had wiped them off before descending. It took Shiro’s breath away, the way his eyes gently gleamed in the dark. Matt would have to blink eventually, and as he did, the water glistened as it silently rolled down his cheeks. Once again, Shiro wondered why the boy felt ashamed about his sadness, for it was so beautiful? For him, there was beauty in everything Matt took up. Was it the smile curling up the corners of his mouth, or his brows giving in to the frown of despair; right now, the pearls on his face were the most treasured thing Shiro could imagine. Was there really a difference, being a secret of a deep sea or a white, cold star in space? The faint light was the same everywhere, seeping through the thick canvas of blackness. For Shiro, Matt was that light; guiding him through the darkness. Yet at the moment, the one who needed guiding the most was him.  


 

Matt couldn’t bear to be looked at anymore. He turned his eyes away, and as he did they seemed to turn black. The light moved out of the way for shame, that colored his cheek with its crimson red. Fingers raising to touch his face, the boy attempted to lock in another sob, straining to keep the mask in check. Disheartened as he thought his upperclassman was teasing him purposely, and just staring at him as he cried, Matt closed his eyes to find distraction to the burning feeling.  


 

He appeared smaller than ever in his black prison outfit. Shiro watched as his shoulders lowered, the new skin devouring him so that he soon wouldn’t distinguish from their dark surroundings anymore. The man didn’t want to let him slip away. The darkness from around the room, the cold darkness of space and the vicious one in his head were all fighting to consume him. He would melt into it at any given moment, and Shiro couldn't contain his bursting heart anymore. So he silently reached out, and pulled him out of that void.

Matt looked puzzled as his wrist was grabbed, but let himself to be led. In a silent, trustful movement, Shiro reeled him in. They didn't need words: they were like dancers, agreed to move as far as the other allowed. The bed creaked as the boy shifted his balance on one knee, placed on the mattress between Shiro's. Breaths intermingling, the warm blows neared the other’s skin, when Matt suddenly decided that he had met his limit. He stopped leaning over the man, back straightened and limbs stiff, and shielded himself. Not knowing what to do with his hands he hovered there awkwardly, too insecure and uncertain to let the moment continue any longer.

Shiro didn't mind. Still holding his wrist, Shiro raised his free hand to squeeze his arm, demanding the boy’s attention within the contact.

 

"Hey". The man spoke finally. His voice was soft in the dim lightning.  


"I'm sorry for what I did earlier".

 

Matt stared at him, disbelief crossing his face as his words sank in. Shiro stared back, and the boy could tell that he was serious by the gentle and genuine look in his grey eyes. He, too, looked drastically different wearing a prisoner suit. It felt like it was the first time Matt really saw him. The shirt made him look younger, almost boyish, yet his black hair and tender smile remained familiar. Merely the uniform of an Exploration Pilot had been what had kept them on their own lanes; without it, the man appeared more vulnerable.

 

"No... Shiro, no, it wasn't your fault -you didn't have other options".  


Matt spoke fast, avoiding to get too caught in the matter. A raging fire swiftly spread over his nose and ears, burning like the guilt pooling in his eyes. He knew all too well where they had gone wrong, and seeking to set it right, rushed his own apology in.

 

"I-I'm sorry for what I did. It was stupid, I know, but I just-"  


An incoming sob left too little room for him to continue. Matt pressed his palm over his mouth and turned away, struggling to complete his incoherent apology. It was humiliating, really, how he had unintentionally made his best friend believe that any of it was his fault. It was no one’s, yet he had managed to make it worse with his own behavior. He felt like he was off limits, rapidly slipping out of control of his fate and feelings, and nothing could hold his pieces in place.  


 

Then, unexpectedly, Shiro curled his arm around his shoulders and pulled him onto his lap. To meet him halfway, he remembered to speak out that time. “It’s alright”, Shiro breathed his words in his neck, a bit embarrassed and surprised by his own boldness.  


“I’m right here”.  


Matt blinked, mildly startled as Shiro’s arms enclosed his worn out body out of the blue. His brain was slow to comprehend his words because of that, but as the man leaned his head over his shoulder, he received the message. A violent sob was torn from his throat, and he managed to breath in a haste, high-pitched “ _Shiro_ ”, before breaking down altogether. Throwing his hands behind the man’s back, he clung onto the fabric of his shirt like his life depended of it.  


Shiro wriggled to find more comfortable position with the boy on his lap, before hemming him tighter into the hug. As they settled, it felt like the storm inside his head did so too. Being able to anchor a part of his soul by Matt’s side saved him -for directing his straying thoughts from the situation and his own powerlessness in it, to the other human, calmed his mind. Shiro pressed his hand on the back of Matt’s head, touching the fuzz of hair carefully. He had been pushed over his self-restriction for a moment. Yet, upon hearing Matt’s confession he couldn’t have helped the claiming. He knew how heavy regret is to carry, and unwilling to watch him get lost into his immeasurable sorrows any further, had let his heart fly blindly into the sun.  


 

Nothing would distract him from his purpose anymore. As Matt cried against his shoulder, Shiro thought about it. When had it became so, that he would be ready to give up his body and everything he had for his sake, at any given time? Shiro had never considered it that profoundly, but now it appeared as clear as crystal before his eyes. They had been so happy, their life without any adversities. It hadn’t felt timely -but he had a reason to believe it had been there then, too; it had been all their time. He couldn’t name the feeling, and decided it wasn’t the time; but hoped from his heart that it’d transferred over to him. And as Matt surrendered into the embrace, he wondered if he knew.  


 

Matt breathed steadier against his shoulder now. Trusting Shiro as his wall he leaned in closer, confiding his weariness to him. The move shifted their balance, and Shiro had to lean back, against the wall in turn. His hand slid down from his neck to his back to support the change. The line was getting blurred. Scaring the boy any more than what he had already was the last thing Shiro wanted to, so the large palm that nested at Matt’s lower back just rested at the curve. It occupied surprisingly large area, warming up the skin. Shiro’s heart beat illogically fast, but he didn’t let it distract, for the move was necessary there. Still acting out of instinct, Shiro’s hand explored up and down his back in a soothing motion, gently as if he was handling a flower.  


Matt’s breathing peaked. He had no idea how touch deprived he had been, and now it felt like the most natural thing. His body melt into the contact as if he had been starving of it. Shiro was curious, and he didn’t intend to scold him. Nuzzling his tear-swollen eyes against the man’s shoulder, Matt let out a sigh.  


 

“Shiro?”  


“Hm?”  


“What are we going to do?”  


 

There had probably been hundreds of questions revolving in his head at the moment, he had just picked out the most important. His voice seemed to break a little as he pronounced his name; if anything, it broke Shiro’s heart a little more still… He knew that Matt wished him to hold the answer, to soothe his mournful heart, and it hurt him to let the boy down once again.  


“I don’t know, Matt”.  


Matt let out a distressed whimper against his neck. Shiro hated to be that person, who disappointed him over and over again, and sought to change the tide. He raised his hand to shyly caress the face, that had turned to peer up at him. The view was illuminated by the ghostly moonlight, provided by their small excuse of a window. Declaring that he still had something to say, Shiro opened his mouth again, and Matt waited for him alongside the black sky and white stars.  


 

“But listen… Whatever is going to happen, we’ll figure it out together. I promise”.  


 

That much was true. It’d all be alright as long as they sticked together, that much Shiro knew true. Matt was happy with his answer, and slumped back to his koala-like position. The man stayed put, stroking his fingers ever so gently through his hair. As he calmed down, the darkness surrounding them seemed to relent, too. Shiro studied the change over the boy’s crown, feeling content for the first time in days.  


 

Neither of them didn’t want to think about it; what the approaching morning would bring along, the future. And they didn’t have to; because for now, it was enough that they were still together, the other’s warmth close to them as they were hidden by the fleeting night.  


 

Human soul is so capable of hope. As the other male nestled his cheek on the crook of his neck, breathing steadily against his chest, that strong emotion stirred up in Shiro. From the dusk of their night to the approaching dawn, he would hold him, he decided. He would be with him, no matter what life would throw on their path, no matter where they would end up.

 

 

He’d never leave him alone again.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The screams of masses boomed from somewhere far.

 

Other than that, the tunnel was miraculously quiet. Usually, all the prisoners put together like that managed to create quite a hassle, but that day something seemed to silence them all; something predatory. There was a sense of killing in the air, that told Shiro it was serious; that there was a reason for their dead silence. They had guessed what awaited them at the end of the tunnel.

 

Shiro had seen countless of tunnels similar before. During the time they had spent on that prison he, Matt, and dozens of other inmates, different species united under the black and purple guise, had been moved around a lot. Handled as a pack, they were labeled with numbers, and every day had the same cold hard layer of monotony and misery above them. Nothing ever changed, neither better or to worse, and Shiro couldn’t decide whether or not it was a good thing.

Lately nonetheless, they had been put through several training slash test sessions, after each of which Shiro had counted the number of their alien peers diminishing. The questions milling around in his head were: for what were those tests ran for? And where did the creatures keep disappearing? Every morning, in the morning count when he found another benevolent one missing, he became more worried about it. How long would it take for that to happen to him, or worse; to Matt?

As of right now, he and Matt had managed to stick together. Then again, who knew what would happen after they had reached the end of that tunnel? 

In the dark, Shiro could see the outlines of the boy standing in front of him. Despite everyone else’s fumbling, he stayed completely put, which signaled him a lot about how distressed he was. Usually Matt was constantly fidgeting something, was it his nonexistent glasses or Shiro’s sleeve, and so his present immobility brought great concern to the man. The setting was straight from the day when they had first arrived, except that a lot had changed since then.

 

It had been around three weeks. It was challenging to keep up with time in space, but Shiro did his best with scraping lines to the wall by his bed. They never talked about their first night there again, and Shiro was starting to contemplate if it all had been just a dream. What had driven them to each other’s arms like that then? Being allowed to touch Matt… Now, it felt like a high-flying, rosy illusion anymore. Slipping back to their old habits, including avoidance, they respected each other’s boundaries, and held back from leaning onto the other. Still, what Shiro could never say out loud; the reason that made him able to deal with the life in prison every dawning day was him.

 

They hadn’t heard anything from Samuel Holt. Sure, it wasn’t like they were really expecting to receive any signals of his survival, but being kept in the dark still hurt like hell. Shiro wasn’t sure how Matt was keeping it together; he had offered him comfort, but had got rejected every time. Matt wanted to pretend that nothing had ever changed between them, he wanted to forget -and yet, Shiro wasn’t sure if he wanted to allow him to. In the end, the only things he earned were small touches in the dark, Matt’s head leaning against his shoulder. That was the furthest they would go; Shiro was on a tightrope with him, the boy’s hands delicately placed around his throat. And despite Matt’s vulnerability and his need of somebody, he was unable to accept the love that awaited him.

 

The line was moving again. Shiro flinched, as Matt jerked his head up all of a sudden. A small bright spot had appeared to the end, way ahead of where they stood. Shiro had less problems seeing over the sea of crowns, but the door was still too far for him to make anything out of it. Even so, it didn’t erase the fact that their destination had been revealed, and the information transferred quickly through the mass. Along with the view, arrived the truth; and although the humans were yet to see it, the ones in front of them did, and they were terrified.

The shrieks and rattles reached their part of the tunnel fast, and it clattered the walls and shook the floor underneath their soles as it went. The chaos was ready-made; the aliens splurted out strings of language everywhere around them, asking for help or potentially praying. Shiro sought to gather any understandable piece of the hysteria, and against the odds, succeeded in collecting the almost full picture.

 

“There is an arena out there!”

 

“They are making us battle against the Gladiator!”

 

“Do you know how many has already died?”

 

And with it, every missing thing had been awarded an explanation. The tests, the missing inmates... The Galra empire had planned the whole thing precisely. The poor lab rats inside the system were just throwaways in their hands, disposable livestock which only purpose was to serve as an entertainment. Useless in the way they had been born, the arena unfolding in front of them acted as their last station. Masked as a golden field, blessed with its purpose to hem the unworthy into its fatal embrace.

And for Shiro’s lament, Matt had realized the truth, too. He watched as his head lowered in the middle of the others who reached higher, to see a glimpse of the death itself perhaps. As his head fell, his neck was exposed again, like a sacrifice offered to a guillotine. And Shiro felt his breath seal in his throat by the message his collapsing gave;

_This is the end._

 

_We are going to die._

 

And there was nothing to be done. Giving in to the defeat, his desolation could be read from the way he opened his loose fists, already admitting himself to the darkness. And although Shiro knew how to pull him from there, he hesitated. If they were going to die, shouldn’t they die distant? What was the right choice there? Pondering over the slim possibilities he ended up losing the critical moment, so just as his fingers were about to touch Matt’s back, the line jolted forward and he once again slipped out of his reach.

It was humiliating, more than anything. To be trained to fight an impossible opponent, to die in vain. To see him die in vain.  
Shiro clenched his jaw. If only he could do something to save at least Matt -And suddenly, the plan manifested itself in front of his eyes. It was so clear and simple Shiro wondered why he hadn’t realized it earlier, but by the same token, so tragic that it made him wish it had never occurred him. As the end of the line approached slowly but steadily, Shiro immersed himself into it, looking into every possible weak point. He was so preoccupied, that Matt’s voice in his ears took him by utter surprise.

 

“I’m not gonna make it”.

 

Submitted as a matter of fact, his low whisper affected Shiro like a heartbreak. The boy raised his hands in front of him, hazy eyes briefly skimming his empty palms before losing their focus again. In the same, unsteady breath, Matt gasped out another unbearable remark. “I’ll never see my family again”.

 

His misery squeezed Shiro’s heart with cold hands. To take his mind away from it with something, anything, Shiro opened his mouth, and managed out a simple “You can do this-”, but then the doors opened again. The rest of what he would’ve wanted to say was robbed by the guard’s metallic sound when it stepped onto the stair, ready to condemn another unfortunate one.

 

Shiro watched it make its choice from the midst of them. A blade raised, slowly and tediously, as if they were underwater, motions hindered and mouths muted. The black frigidity of the ocean waves filled his lungs, when the blade landed on its decision.

 

 

The guard was pointing at Matt.

 

 

Now that he thought of it, Shiro could remember running in the hallways with him before.

 

Their footsteps could be heard from afar. Two boys, in their orange school uniforms, confused similarly dressed students by running through the hall, their spurts of laughter echoing from the steel walls. They had pulled a prank on Iverson, the leading teacher of spacemanship in their school, and were now runaways for it. Matt led the way -he always did, being the rebellious one -and Shiro tried not to lose the sight of his tousle of hair while skipping among the sea of people. They were young and free, their thirsty hearts saturated with the adventure, brimming with joy and excitement. Shiro felt like he had made the best decision with coming to that school, and the biggest reason for that was his best friend.

 

Matt hit the brakes upon finding a perfect hiding place. It was a stowage room, alone in some quiet corridor like it had been waiting for them. Heels slipping on the floor he curved in, pulling Shiro within. The movement was so strong he ended up slamming his back against the wall, and the air flow created pulled the door shut.

After their sudden stop, the dust descended. Silence settled steadily in the dim room. Matt was panting, the sound mixing with its duplicate from the other male. His hands were still gripping the front of Shiro’s uniform, and he leaned out to peer through the narrow strip on the door, attempting to locate their possible chasers.  
At the same time, Shiro struggled to maintain his balance -he noticed that the room was actually pretty crowded, as it turned out to be more like a maintenance canal. Afraid of falling over and giving them away by the noise, he leaned in to support his stance by pressing his palm next to Matt’s head. Which was luckily turned away -for the second thing the man knew, was that they were positioned pretty awkwardly.

Matt would still be blissfully unaware of that for a few seconds. Shiro attempted to gently correct their position, but the other boy’s hands clinging onto his jacket inhibited him from straightening his back. Furthermore, they kept subconsciously pulling him closer, as Matt’s muscles tensed as a reaction to his excitement. Heart racing, he stretched out to hear better, and Shiro had no choice but to follow in full HD the movement of his neck and jawline as he concentrated on it. The poor man was no help in keeping watch, as he could soon hear nothing than his own loud heartbeat as he realized that he could see Matt’s eyelashes over the frame of his glasses.

 

Matt let out a quiet laugh. Accompanied with a question, “Think we lost them, Shiro?” he turned his eyes on him innocently, unaware of the other’s struggle. A small streak of light spilled over his features, reflecting from the round lenses on his nose. 

 

It got breath stuck in Shiro’s throat. Too distracted to actually answer him, he took advantage of the rare and fleeting moment instead, taking in the sight. Matt seemed to get lost with it for a second, his face still wearing that small open mouthed smile as he processed the situation. Even when puzzled, he appeared as the prettiest thing for Shiro, who was completely smitten with the fair freckles that spread over his nose.

Forgetting what they had been in the middle of, both boys lagged like that for few seconds, chest to chest. After the awkward silence increased to unbearable, Matt caught up. Proceeding to let go so sudden it looked like he had been holding something repulsive, he let out a breathless laugh as an attempt to ease the stifling atmosphere by some mean.  
Pushed back, Shiro too snapped back to present. Blinking to erase the crimson fire spreading from his ear to ear, he found compensation in the way the pink flush on Matt’s cheeks mimicked his.

“ _Sorry, Shiro_ ” was said out loud. His voice had never been softer, and although it had been some years already, that scenario had never fully left the man. Shiro was glad it hadn’t; the picture of Matt with his wide, glistening eyes, peering up at him, the world around them in a sleepy afterglow… He would never want to forget it, and he hadn’t. And now, the image was back;

 

But this time, they weren’t Matt’s hands.

 

They were his hands. And Matt’s face, which he could once again see so beautifully close, wasn’t full of excitement and soft glow like it used to be. Instead, there was harsh lines and raw, conflicted feelings. Shiro locked in every detail in that split second they were on the ground; studying his frowning brows and the deep line grooved between them... The way his lips were slightly open, as if something had caught all the air from between them.

He was afraid.

In the corner of his eye, Shiro could see the weapon he had stolen, laying on the floor on his right. He concentrated to observe it for a brief second, noticing other things. The metallic sound of the guards’ feet approaching them from behind. Around them, a terrified ring of creatures, pushing each other back trying to get as far as possible from -from _what_? In the center of it all; his hands on Matt’s shirt, wrenching the dark purple fabric. And the worst;

 

The smell of blood.

 

Matt gasped. Yet again, he snapped Shiro back to reality, like history’s cruel attempt to return him to his younger self’s cage. Shiro hovered over him, equally shocked of his own, sudden savagery and for his lament, yet again locked in to witness the consequences of his broken boundaries.

Slowly, the boy’s expression changed like the moon changes the tide, as his brain registered the injury on his right knee. Matt stared straight into Shiro in pain as he had processed the events and realized his weight on top of him.

 

What he had done hit Shiro like thousand nails through his heart. He understood what the picture must have looked like to Matt; Shiro, his best friend from so many years aback, had turned on him out of the blue, _cut_ him, and knocked him down. Underneath the attacker, the boy was genuinely uncertain and scared of him, fear written all over his trembling body. Shiro could feel his terrified heartbeat underneath the fabric his hands still clung onto, unable to let go. He had always desired to make Matt’s heart beat for him, but not like this. _Never_ like this. But as much as he would have wanted to change Matt’s pained expression to his gentle, flushed one from their younger days, he knew that he had brought that upon himself, and would take the responsibility.

 

Shiro’s tense body demanded a hasty inhale at last. He allowed it, and alongside it, his expression changed. As the made-up, raw anger vanished, his real feelings got revealed on his face. The man that met Matt’s gaze was in deep despair, his face of weakness reserved only for him in the chaotic room.

He wouldn’t have thought the day would come when he would need to hurt Matt in order to save him, and he wished he wouldn’t have had to do that. But the place where they were was designed to corner the living souls, making them turn to extreme measures to protect the ones they loved. The only hope the man had in that place was to injure Matt so, that he would be deemed weak enough to be sent to the place they kept his father in. If that place even existed -if not, his only hope was that at least he wouldn’t have to die in such a violent way. Shiro didn’t want to think of the negative consequences in order to be able to carry out his plan, as he was in the middle of executing it already. It was too late to pull back.

The guards arrived to the scene. Shiro could hear the other aliens gasp in horror across the room -if he thought quickly, he would be able to tell Matt his last goodbye. The man opened his mouth the moment the guards’ hands grabbed his shoulders, and-

 

“ _Take care of your father_ ”,

 

-was what he managed before he was violently pulled up, and dragged away from the boy, but-

 

“ _I love you_ ”,

 

-was what died on his lips, what was stolen from them in the dry storm of frightened gibberish and weapons’ humming, the endless tragedy of unfulfilled wishes and forlorn hope. Shiro could see Matt the whole time he was being taken away, the other aliens gathering around the bleeding boy as if in a slow-motioned movie. Despite holding his injured leg, he never broke their eye-contact, until Shiro went out of his reach, turned around and pushed to the arena. He was so in shock that he didn’t know what it meant, and so the tears didn’t come, until the hallway was filled with living, his voice buried under thousands of louder ones, his only tower of strength out of his reach for forever and ever.

 

Meanwhile, Shiro fought.

 

He fought like there was no end to that day, like he had just been granted the will of every surviving soul. He would not let the boy’s sacrifice to be in vain, his safety to be taken for granted. No matter how much blood he would have to spill, how many nights he would have to spend in isolation away from him, he would pay no mind.  
He was ready.

 

And his determination did not waver. Not when he was dragged through thousand of those halls more, not in the booming rain of voices in the arena, not in the skull-breaking silence of his cell. Although every other edge of his soul faded, through the losing of his right hand, his freedom, his mind, he lived through it. 

After that critical day when they were separated, days blended together into a gray mass called surviving. And solely surviving it was, until the man had no idea of how long it had been. Weeks? Months? Shiro lamented after the organized and consistent person he had been. Was it the drug he was almost constantly kept in or just the soul-crushing loneliness on his side, but the top of the class pilot was just a ghost of his former anymore, and it made him sick. He didn’t want to be “The champion" anymore, he never chose it to himself. Overall, he was tired of fighting to the days’ end, posing as an impossible hope for the hopeless ones lurking at the shadowy ends of that system. 

 

But the universe had planned him no rest. Even when he was plunged back to Earth for a quick breath, he would be taken back to space with a different crew in no time.

 

Before Shiro knew it, he was in front of another huge position he had to fill. At that point, aliens and other extraterrestrial stuff didn’t astonish him too much anymore, but it was still _something_ to get chosen by an ancient space lion. If anything, it was a beginning of a lot of things -and suddenly, the Kerberos mission, “furthest the humankind had ever travelled”, felt so, so small. They travelled lengths.

The castle life him and the other paladins ended up living was a total opposite of his inmate days. Everything else was different: surrounded with people who cared about him, hands piled with tasks of leadership and teambuilding and world-saving… Shiro’s days were no longer quiet, and therefore his ptsd finally bothered him way less than when it did. It was a pleasant change.  
Only his cabin sometimes reminded him of his old cell more than he would’ve liked. At night, when the ship’s quiet whirring was the only sound he could distinguish, the man felt the old things creeping back to him. Shiro thought he would’ve gotten used to the incoherent, drifting feeling that was space already, but found himself longing for him again and again. If only he still had that certain someone by his side, to fill his void, to numb the phantom pain in his right arm and in his heart. The space was cold and dark for the lonely; unaware of where in it he was, Shiro gave in to sleep.

But those were only the nights. The days he kept busy, and they melted into each other again, into a colorful mess. Shiro adjusted in his reassignment: no longer taking orders, but giving them. The workload was endless, of which the man was grateful; and he got out of bed before six like back in the Garrison every day. Routines and discipline was what he was good at, them being the reason he hadn’t lost his mind alone in the prison. Slowly, Shiro started to feel like himself again.

 

Together with the Voltron crew, they faced a lot of hardships, but a lot of victories, too. Saving the universe meant different things depending on the day; inseparable part of it was meeting a lot of new creatures and species. Shiro had given up on over-analyzing every strange thing they had crossed paths with, but it never stopped amazing him how many other races there was, unknown to the humanity’s knowledge. And it never stopped saddening him, knowing how many of those races were runaways from the same, purple empire he was.

 

For Shiro had soon learned that the empire wasn’t planning on letting its grip on him loose. The cold computer voice shouting “ _Fugitive prisoner 117-9875_ “ when tracking the galra tech in him would ring between his ears for days afterwards. It would add to the things that made him lay awake at night, the feeling of utter repulsion towards his prosthetic hand. The heavy metal rested at the covers, emitting worse energy the longer he scrutinized it, like it was about to set its bed ablaze. It never did start to feel like his own, but rotted the flesh it was attached to. Shiro hated it. He hated how it might put the whole team in danger, like he might do. Along with his scars, the hand was a part of him that never relented reminding him of his past. It walked like a ghost beside him, until one day the grim memories came alive.

 

Reuniting with his fellow inmates was the single occasion that hurt Shiro the most. 

The man had noticed early on that his head wasn’t what it used to be. He had lost big chunks of his memory -not being able to make anything intelligible of his own past stressed him out to a certain point, but one thing remained. He would never forget about Matt. Even after all that time, the image of him hadn’t wavered once. It was a bright light that shone through all the uncertainty, his schoolboy’s love comforting him in his still dark moments. His memory wasn’t that reliable, but he had still supposed that he would never, _ever_ hurt Matt.

Not until the ones still calling him “The Champion” brought the painful memory freshly to his mind. 

 

Shiro felt devastated. Re-living the dark aisle all over again, the sheep on their way to the slaughterhouse, Matt’s terrified whimper underneath him, he wished he hadn’t been taken back there at all. Going through their last moment together over and over again, Shiro couldn’t help but let the biggest question of them all engulf his head. What had happened to that boy afterwards? In spite of all that time that had passed, the man knew absolutely as little as the version of him in the prison suit. He hadn’t heard anything about Matt since, and because of that, had been afraid to hope for a miracle. Tempted to suppress the memory, Shiro let it slide again as he had done until then.

 

There was one thing though, that kept him from ever wholly doing so. He had teamed up with Matt’s baby sister, Katie. Shiro knew she missed him at least as much as he did, although they rarely spoke about it. She looked exactly like him in her glasses, and soon Shiro found the reminder constantly walking beside him. And so, living with a Holt turned out to be both consolation and a curse for the man. The rest of the team had picked up his overprotectiveness towards Pidge, and made their own deductions of his reasons, but there was still a lot of things that they did not know. And although it had been some time, the glimpse of that brown tousle of hair in the corridors made his heart jump every now and then. 

 

Even so, it was alright, really. He was alright. Life takes the course it’s meant to, the man reminded himself. Recently, Shiro had fought for his life again, and therefore stepped to the side from his role as the leader. The vacation felt much needed, because although he nowadays had less nightmares, a prolonged headache had taken their role as his main antagonizer. In spite of it, his days mainly passed deep in the usual tasks, lacking any major interruptions. It was fine that way; Shiro appreciated the steady and tranquil course his life had finally attained.

 

So when Pidge informed over the radio that she had found someone extraordinary and was bringing them back to the palace, Shiro felt an earthquake tremble under his feet.

 

He didn’t know what to think; what to expect. Stepping out the vehicle to greet her with the others, Shiro felt uncertain. Purposely slowing down his steps and staying behind their backs, he left himself in the corner of the scene, watching. He was too afraid to hope for anything, but there was one persistent thought that had immediately crossed his mind.

Matt had been dead for at least a year now. That was the underlying ‘truth’ his common sense had made him adapt to, hardly needing a confirmation. It felt dangerous to try to believe otherwise, to let his imagination fly high with his hopes. 

 

But Pidge had sound so happy and proud announcing her finding… 

 

Anxiously dismissing any anticipation, Shiro shook his head. He wouldn’t know until he had seen him, and decided on not to think about anything before the revelation. Fixing his gaze to the sky alongside the others, the man followed the landing of the green robot lion.

 

Pidge stepped out first. She was smiling, wider than they had ever seen her do during their time in space. Bursting with joy that blinded everyone with its radiance, she dragged a cloak-draped individual out of the vehicle -taller, their crown was visible behind the paladin, their hair shaded identical to her. The moment the stranger came into view, Shiro knew his heart would never again know rest.

 

Matt appeared dusty, as if he hadn’t been out in the sunlight for quite some time. His features had changed to more mature, and his frame was wider, too -but for Shiro, he looked so undoubtedly him. The boy had retained his kind-hearted personality, for he broke into his signature smile the second he stepped out of the vehicle, and the sky behind him broke into a yellow hue. The other remarkable changes in his appearance were longer hair and a scar, that had appeared on his right cheek, running from his jawline towards his right eye. But none of those things bothered Shiro too much; he thought, that however the universe liked to change him, it wouldn’t make him love Matt any less. And it didn’t -standing in the shadows, the man admired him like it was the first time he ever saw him.

 

The odd-clothed boy was eager to get to know everyone. Bold and playful as he had always been, Matt shook their hands like there wasn’t a single person he would’ve so liked to meet.  
Shiro observed the introductions from the outside. It felt like not a day had passed since they had been enrolled in the Garrison -Matt had always been a people person, while he himself preferred to study social gatherings from the outside. Meeting the princess, the boy immediately entered his flirt-mode, which earned some gloomy glances from an another male. From the man though, it drew a chuckle -Shiro had already seen that coming, knowing the boy’s keenness on impressing. He had used that same line to someone in every other student party they had been together, with varying success.

 

Eyes still fond on him, the man’s smile concealed his nervousness. It was almost time for him to get noticed. Shiro waited for Matt’s glance to skim over the group’s faces, eventually landing on his -he knew the boy’s habit of making sure everyone felt included in a room.

 

Matt stopped. Bewildered, his pupils widened as he recognized the man’s character standing a few feet away from the group. A single “Shiro?” escaped his open mouth, as if he wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating at first, and needed a confirmation. His voice had dropped all the attitude, but sounded innocent and _so_ genuine that it sent shivers down the man’s spine, like a promise of hope.

All the other people around vanished for them. All the time passed, the distance -none of those things were no more. Matt was unable to turn his fixed gaze away from the owner of that name. Shiro had changed a lot from where they had last met, but he knew that smile -and like under a spell, the boy dropped everything to hurry over.  
Shiro hadn’t realized that he was smiling, but the emotion must have crept on his lips early. Suddenly a bit overwhelmed, the leader let in the enormous feeling of joy and relief over their reunion replace the year’s anxiety on his shoulders. Seeing Matt approach him, he felt only happy, his heart lighter than ever. Imitating it, the sunset sky was dipped in gold, the color descending like in a painting. Shiro was indifferent about it; everything else could wait. He needed Matt in his arms. 

 

The boy had shifted his feet towards him impulsively. Matt was so close to home, but fell nervous halfway down the homestretch. Pausing at a safe distance from the man, he opened his mouth but had nothing come out. Had their last moments popped to his mind, might had; because he looked like he didn’t know what to say anymore. They were complicated, Shiro knew it; and felt the weight of the year and their now own lives closing in on the scene as the boy pondered it. All he was asking was to be forgiven and for them to go on from where they had been cut off, was it impossible or not.  
But Matt was looking irresolute now, and offering his hand to him in a formal gesture, came up with only:

 

“It’s so good to see you, um, _sir_ ”.

 

The use of his old honorific was the knife that turned in Shiro’s heart. It brought them back to the starting line -during their mission, Shiro had found the lapse adorable, but as of now they hadn’t addressed each other formally for years. The term erased everything they had achieved during their many months in space together, the sacrifices they had been able to make, their fragile relationship built. Shiro never wished to be put on a pedestal, the least by him. And now, Matt was peering up at him insecure -still not quite on his level despite his growth spurt, so Shiro did the only thing he could imagine.

 

Grabbing the hand offered, the man didn’t settle to shaking it. He gave a tug, and the boy was swept off his feet and into his arms with little effort. Caught off guard, Matt pulled a surprised face against Shiro’s chest, cheek resting on his shoulder. Soon enough, registering the hand on his back, the boy gave in to the hug, bringing his own arms around Shiro with a faint smile. The rebel fighters didn’t hug much, and it occurred Matt how much he had missed it -how much he had missed him.

 

Matt’s head leaning onto his shoulder, the boy once again giving away his vulnerability for only him to guard, Shiro knew that his apology had been accepted. Most of all, he had wanted to assure him that it was alright with the hug -that it was alright to let go of any insecurity or fear. He was still Shiro and he was Matt, in that way they were still the same, and the man was ready to pretend that nothing else had changed either. And for a second, he held his best friend, the boy of his dreams, in his arms tightly. Breathing in his familiar scent, Shiro tried to tame his racing heart and fluttering eyelashes with it. Before letting him go-

he knew he had to let him go.

 

When they separated, it was just like the man had got his head out of clouds. Suddenly, both of them became hyper aware of their audience, the other paladins trying to guess their relationship from the small conversation. And as always before, in his Garrison uniform, Shiro had to step back from his love in that public stage. The company invalidated their attempts of intimacy, and afraid if he had crossed a boundary with Matt, too, the man struggled to shift the focus somewhere else.

He landed on a topic mutual to them; Pidge, and Matt took it, small talking with him superficially for a while before the little sister in question snatched his arm to take her big brother on a tour around the castle. 

 

Shiro was left outside of that pattern. It didn’t nag him; Matt deserved to have some long overdue family time. After all, he knew how much they meant to each other. But after the others were gone and Shiro was left outside the castle’s doors alone, watching the setting sun paint even deeper colors on the evenly darkening sky, he let one, half-aware thought to pass. 

He wanted to mean something to Matt, too.

 

 

The evening dragged itself on.

Shiro felt surreal. His usual day routine had been interrupted like that, and now it was almost impossible for him to bounce back -knowing, that somewhere in the same space close to him, his love wandered on; returned from death. It hadn’t been easy to live on without him, but harder it became to live on with the presence of him. Being able to hold Matt in his arms so alive and full of love had awakened every desperate and conflicted feeling inside him, things that he had tucked away a long, long time ago.

Shiro sighed. He had thought he had been able to shed those feelings with all the time passed, but the certain curiosity covering his image remained. Matt has always been extraordinary for him. He had something that made him popular with people, like it was just impossible to dislike him from the moment you’ve met. He distracted the masses with asking questions about their lives -to veil that he never shared anything about his. Shiro was the only person who had been able to lure out anything honest. He had seen his pain and vulnerability, and was now hooked on the rare taste beyond relief. Would Matt ever trust him completely, even after all he had done?

 

Deep in his collapsing thoughts, Shiro started to prepare for bed. He knew he wouldn’t attain peace for a long time, but he also knew that he had to try. Insomnia was a resilient opponent; it returned to the battlefield of his head a night after night. That night, it would show up intense, and the man settled to the thought. But before he could start, there was a faint knock on his door. And the man knew only one person whose knocking sounded like that.

 

“Shiro?”

 

Matt’s head popped in. The boy had most likely went through a whole bunch of doors on the hallway, because his eyes lit up when he finally targeted the person he had been looking for from behind them. Shiro faced the entry, dumbfounded by the visit.

Matt walked in, closing the sliding door behind him. Shiro was sitting on the edge of his bed, still a bit slow with comprehending what was happening. Although the effort to act as casual as possible, Matt’s body language was stiff when he plopped down next to him in his foreign suit. He had dropped the cloak and the heaviest of armour pieces somewhere, Shiro made an absent note -without the bulky gear, he looked almost bare, despite being covered from head to toe in the skin tight undergarment. It revealed the changed outlines of his body; his tender arms padded with light muscle.  
Shiro had been staring for too long. Quickly, the man brought his gaze away, and luckily Matt didn’t seem to notice. Cross-legged, he made himself comfortable before beginning to speak.

 

“So… what have you been doing? Okay, Pidge explained the main points of “Voltron” to me, but I wanted to hear it from you!”

 

Matt was basically beaming. Acting like it was a casual conversation, as if it was possible for them to have casual conversations, he brought up the topic of work, of course. He had a knowing grin on his lips, which extended to a toothy smile as he announced proudly:

 

“I heard they made you the leader!”

 

And Shiro could only stare at that shining sun before him. The exchange felt so familiar, the boy’s voice echoing in his memory - _I heard they made you a commander!_ with that same, adoring smile sweet in his voice. Matt has always been excited for his achievements, but Shiro couldn’t help wishing that he could hear something about him, too. Directing the topic continuously to the other disclosed his uneasiness. The man was familiar of that habit of his -and yet, gave in to the old game.

Talking about their achievements, their mission, the war, he told him everything the boy had missed out on. Matt listened carefully, and Shiro was able to collect some information of his occupation from the comments he dropped in between the lines. Enlisted to the rebel forces, Matt had been working alone as a communications specialist for some time now. Craving for more info, the man waited patiently for him to go on, but Matt kept it strictly superficial and work-related, never once coming around to mention his release from the prison. And at the end of it, Shiro felt like he had learned nothing.

 

Mostly because of that, the conversation quickly died. Matt stared at the wrinkly bedsheet. There was a swarm of topics left, demanding his attention in the back of his head, but he stubbornly ignored it. It was funny, because weren’t they best friends after all? It may have been, that the line from “best friends” to something else had been crossed a long time ago.

He couldn’t stand it. Abruptly, the boy got up to leave the bed they had shared. Nothing was going like it was supposed to, it just didn’t feel the same. He was a coward, and his heart beating him loudly, Matt claimed something along the lines “I should be going, Pidge’s probably looking for me”. Briefly glancing the man to read his expression, he was met with a frown on Shiro’s face, as he didn’t even try to hide his disappointment anymore. His friend’s disapproval discouraged the rebel, and even more distressed he became, uptight language leaving his mouth. 

 

“I’m sorry, It’s late anyways”.

 

As soon as the words left, Matt realized what he had said. He meant that he should’ve popped by earlier, that the evening had disappeared from him, the time becoming nonexistent as he became submerged in a topic. Shiro knew that; he knew the way he got easily tangled. For so many times he had caught the boy three in the morning engaged in one of his science projects... But in the context they were now, he could’ve as well apologized for the time they had missed. The lost year struggled on both of their lips, and Matt’s expression remained apologetic as he remained on the carpet in front of him, finally irresolute if he should go or stay.

 

Yet again, in a small room, in a small corner of galaxy, they were alone together. Objectively the view should have been everything Shiro wanted. Matt and his room had never looked so unreal yet so, so familiar -and like a déjà vu, he was suddenly reminded of their first night in prison. Shiro, sitting on the bed and Matt, looking down at him with a face that begged him to do something, but what he had done last time he just couldn’t bring himself to do now. The man doubted if it had been the right move then, for it had just made everything weird. Again, Shiro was tangled up in his regret, the solution escaping further from his hands. 

 

All the pain that had been never fully disclosed, came in, and the man just thought he couldn't take it anymore. Attempting to stop the history from repeating itself any more times he got up too, plunging the situation deeper into chaos. Not knowing what to do from there, half bypassed the boy, half frozen next to him, he stopped. Heart drumming in his ears, Shiro thought of excuses to make Matt stay, but at the same time, was absolutely terrified of bringing his plea of intimacy in plain sight. 

They were found on an unknown territory, in the dark of which way the moment would expand from there. Their time separately had only worsened the gaping wound, and Shiro doubted if they could ever be stitched back together. The man skimmed over the boy, who had turned a blind eye for him. Locked in, he had his shields up, and Shiro knew there was nothing he could do. What would bring them the redemption they so desperately needed? 

 

“I… never thanked you for what you did”.

 

The words barely left. It must have been a struggle to muster up the courage for them: Matt was still turned away from him, but the silence had been broken. Shiro raised his head from the anxious depths, surprised. He could never had anticipated Matt to take the lead in an emotional conversation, for he usually ran from the responsibility to the extremity. But this time, he held his ground, only the shaking of his hands giving clue to his nervousness.

 

“I used to think you died there, you know… That you were dead”.

 

Matt dived in, head first. He must have spent a lot of his soul thinking of it, if Shiro had perished protecting him. Upon the return of that thought, Matt’s expression hardened. He brought his chin up, directing his serious gaze straight into the man.

 

“I thought it was my fault”.

 

Shiro couldn’t believe what was happening. Matt was tearing down the huge wall he had built piece by piece between him and his true feelings, and Shiro. He laid out his core, and Shiro couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He was amazed by just how much he had matured mentally and built confidence in being himself, in such a short window of time. Or was it just that he had had to learn to take it in and be bare with people in order to _survive_? Either way, just staring at the boy dumbfounded didn’t compliment his confession. Shiro’s unresponsiveness forced the rebel to dig up the very last piece of his guilt, and he did.

 

“I never did anything for you”.

 

Matt didn’t budge. He stayed still on the spot he had been forgotten to, staring wistfully the dent on the mattress they had occupied. The last line had Shiro forced to cut off his monologue at last, the boy’s guilt growing too painful for him to handle. Breath stuck in his throat, his words came out wheezing.  
“I don’t expect you to”.

For that, Matt’s expression softened to a melancholic smile, showing that that was the answer he had been expecting. Shiro stared at his profile. Something had happened since he had been away. Well, a lot of things probably -but lost in translation, Shiro was in a desperate need to understand him. But Matt was about to give it away.

 

“I want to”.

 

 

For Matt had always pretty much looked up to Shiro. He also thought that Shiro was too selfless for his own good; the boy had always found it infuriating yet adorable. He wanted Shiro to think of himself more, but knew that it was carved just too tightly into the man’s character. Matt hated it. He hated how he guarded him like was some fragile thing, always waiting for him in the doorways and hallways and classrooms. How he would carry him to the dorms after a party when it was just a little too late and he had got just a little too much to drink. He hated how much Shiro cared for him; he hated how much he loved it.

Within the involvement to people, comes the risk of losing. Matt just wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. He couldn’t risk letting people too close; imagining his loved ones dying made him feel like it was better to just stay superficial with everyone he met. It wasn’t worth the pain of losing everyone he had ever cared about -except, that Shiro couldn’t seem to understand that concept. And how could he not care about him?

It was just that the boy hated how vulnerable he made him.

How vulnerable he made him right now.

 

Matt turned wholly towards the man, who had question marks written all over his face. Matt knew he was to blame for cornering the man like that, but for heavens he wanted to reconcile. He could see the familiar puppy love clear in Shiro’s eyes, the one he had lit up once again, but didn’t plan to torment it this time. 

 

“Can I-” Matt gestured to the man’s right hand. Shiro picked up what the boy was putting down, and raised the prosthetic for him to look at. The concerned one was without questions very keen on analyzing the smooth metal, like a kid in a candy shop. Shiro, on the other hand, fell soon quite insecure about the limb. He must have been unconsciously pulling back from his touch, because Matt’s grip on his fingers tightened and he whispered “it’s alright”.  
The rebel had seen many prosthetic limbs before, anyways.

 

Gently, the boy took his palm in his fingers, raising the cool iron rest against his cheek. The man’s metallic fingertips hardly felt anything, but the groove that slashed through the soft plump was deep enough for them to dip in slightly.

Realizing that it might have been the same iron touching the wound that had created it, Shiro became slightly nauseous. He chased the boy’s eyes worried, but Matt had turned his glance down and past him, dodging any pity.  
He wasn’t the only one whose appearance had changed drastically. Shiro worried if Matt found him as repulsive as he found himself in his new body, but that was hardly the case. The rebel had also grew oblivious to his appearance -there was no point in keeping up with the scars, as there were too many. And right now, he was curious of him, like his body was an ancient map spotted with new. Matt’s eyes followed every change the man had went through, simply taking it in, no judgement passed.

 

Absolutely afraid of being rejected, Shiro moved to caress the soft fuzz in his jawline, holding Matt’s chin in his palm. He moved slowly like in a dream, hardly breathing. The man still had trouble believing it, to trust in his vision and touch. Matt was there and not only inside his head, his haunting ghost finally in flesh. With all his untouchable innocence, brown eyes, that boyish charm that lasted while everything else changed. His soul was exactly like he had remembered it.

Matt was a live wire; with him, Shiro didn’t have to depend on his self-consciousness.

With him, it was easy to not think about death.

 

 

There it was again, Matt observed silently. He knew that adoring look; had grown almost oblivious to it over time. And it was always there. Matt had been blind for the way it made him feel; only when Shiro had no longer been found by his side, had it become obvious to him.

 

There had been no evenings, mornings, afternoons; hardly any time had passed after Shiro had disappeared. The prison had been cold before, but after that it had become unbearable. Even after rescue, Matt had felt its chill underneath his skin and deep in his bones for months. Shiro’s presence had been the absolute norm for him for so long that he had taken it for granted. But as you only miss the light when it’s fading out, it was his biggest regret -and the thought kept him awake at night. He was afraid if Shiro felt like sacrificing himself for him was something that was _expected_ from him? 

 

Before, Matt had thought he only liked the way Shiro was so in love with him; how it complimented him and made him feel better. But too late had he realized that Shiro was the only thing that made him feel good at all; that it wasn’t just the things he did. It was him, just him, and nothing else. He filled the vast hole in him, the emptiness he hadn’t even realized before. And so he did not only want him, he needed him -so you could only imagine the boy’s relief upon learning that Shiro was alive. 

 

But loving Shiro included a lot of guilt. Matt had had a lot of time to think about it.

 

For so many times the man had looked like he wanted to say something, and he had just brushed him off. Why was it so hard to let him on his skin? Why was he so afraid of being real with him? Matt didn’t actually want to push the man away, although he had done it again earlier that day. Every social interaction with him just tended to become so forced, whether or not they were alone. The fortress sheltering his heart had its guards up at all times, but seeing Shiro’s longing gaze from behind the walls immiserated it. He knew Shiro would do anything for him, and he hated it. He hated it because he, too, would have done anything for the man, but was locked in and unable to send out the message.

 

It seemed that the only way they could be true to each other was without words; where the silence shielded them from the hard reality to ever ruining their fragile space.

And silent they became. 

 

Matt leaned in on the hand that was holding him, giving up everything. He wished that Shiro wouldn’t forgive him; he was undeserving of his amnesty. Shiro should’ve hated him for his uselessness, but he obviously couldn’t make any difference. The man would forgive him again and again, ‘til the end of the world. Nothing he did or failed to do would ever change that, and Matt could only wonder where it all came from. Shiro was far too good for him! Matt couldn’t wrap his head around of what that amazing man could possibly see in him. Shiro was perfect in all fields, while Matt was just, well, Matt. But in spite of it, he continued to behave like Matt was the center of his solar system, his sun and his stars. And the boy wanted to finally repay all of it to him.

 

Bringing his his own hand on top of the man’s metallic one, he gave it a little squeeze. It made Shiro anticipate something, although he wouldn’t in his wildest dreams have guessed the next move the boy pulled.

 

Matt rose on tiptoes, closed his eyes, and went in to press his mouth against Shiro’s. 

 

Their noses collided awkwardly, but the initiator tried to pay it no mind. The kiss was gentle but determined, to give the man an apology and to ask him for more simultaneously. The boy did not know what he wanted specifically, but set his hopes on Shiro to tell him. He kissed him to teach him selfishness and greed, telling him how much he _finally_ wanted to be his. Ears burning, Matt tried to dismiss the taste of the other’s skin, and the prickling sensation it brought in the bottom of his stomach, to shelter from further embarrassment.

Because of that, the kiss only lasted for a brief second. Returning from the clouds, the boy pulled back hazily to stand on his heels. Nervous, Matt glanced up to analyze Shiro’s reaction.

If the man had been speechless before, he sure was now. He could only stare back at him with wide eyes, mouth hanging open. It was enough to give the boy a cold shower. Poor heart sinking to his feet, Matt felt like he was going to have a cardiac arrest if Shiro didn’t say something _soon_.

 

“Shiro? Sorry if I read this wrong-” 

 

“No! No, you didn’t…”

 

Shiro’s response came a little too fast, a little too eager, despite the attempt to soften it towards the end. It had the man turn red, redder than before. He closed his lids briefly to soothe it, and everything blended into Matt’s relieved, teasing giggle.

 

They were better without words. Matt leaned in to quietly ask if he was alright, and Shiro eased his panic by giving a firm nod, fingertips still over his eyes.  
Their small exchange was more than enough; the man found it irreplaceable how they were still close, like nothing in the world could get between them ever again. The kiss meant that Matt had accepted him into his circle, and the realization made his poor heart race.  
The leader cast a glance on him; Matt was smiling, the awkward silly expression stuck on his face, and Shiro wondered how it was possible to love a single person so much. The man’s lovestruck staring, or the exceeding silence made the boy soon dissolve into a laughter again, out of nervousness. He was a mess, a beautiful one. The sound had made Shiro’s heart skip a beat countless of times before: it recognized Matt’s breathless laugh as his most genuine one.

 

Shiro curled his metallic fingers slowly into an intertwinement with Matt’s. The spinning of his head made finally way for a soft smile to emerge, the events unfolding in his heart in the pace of it. The man kept shamelessly staring at the flushed angel in front of him. Making Matt’s smile his own was everything he had ever wanted, and so when the boy asked “Wanna go for another?” with a twinkle in his eyes, he didn’t have to think about it twice.

 

They crashed again, harder than the first but so, so gentle -both still afraid of scaring the other away, their touches were careful.  
For Matt, it was all about learning, but that’s what he did the best anyway. And Shiro was the best teacher; his mouth on his jawline, his cheek, his lips sent tremors running up and down his spine underneath the zipper of his suit. The rebel found something so oddly complementary in surrendering to the hands of the man he loved, that he felt like never going astray again. Heart pounding, the boy hoped his willingness had crossed over to him -his willingness to accept that love, and all it rendered possible.  
Face lifted, the boys hands searched blindly, until meeting the man’s torso. Matt clung onto Shiro’s shirt like he had done back when they had been cadets, and again when they had been inmates -from orange and white, to black and purple, to all the colors they would create together.

 

Shiro had never been confident enough to dream about kissing Matt. But there he was now, the boy glowing in his arms, and he thought he would never want to wake up from that fever dream.  
Now that he knew the boy’s intentions, the leader made sure to meet him halfway, guiding his shyness into a safer place within him. Shiro had the privilege to take over the kiss as the more experienced, so with all the love that had been waiting for an outlet, all the loneliness of that old soul in a young body, he kissed him, and he tasted like every sunrise on Earth. He kissed him, warm and gold-coloured, the gentle sin ruining his innocence.

 

Matt had avoided getting attached for all his life. He didn’t really comprehend how it worked, but thought that if being in love felt like that, he would never want to fall out of it. All he knew for sure was that he wanted Shiro in classrooms, dormitories, space shuttles. He wanted him in prison cells, in rebel ships and robot lions, in every universes and other realities there was. Matt knew little about love, but wouldn’t want to change the feeling to anything now that it had found him. Now that they had found each other.

 

Matt’s hands tugged the hem of his shirt, demanding more. Gaining confidence through him, Shiro moved his hand to Matt’s hair in turn. They worked in unison like that, blurring lines and scraping their old barriers, casually in the name of love. They kissed and kissed, and forgot about time and where they stood in the middle of Shiro’s cabin in the castle: for there was so much to learn, so much to teach, so much to give.

 

When they finally separated, Matt was out of breath but proceeded to laugh nevertheless. The sound blessed the man’s ears. Holding his face ever so gently, Shiro thought about how far they had come from where they had started, how they had first met, how they had been separated and now, finally, reunited -and how much he had always loved him through those times. The nostalgia overwhelmed the man so, that he did what he should have done a lot earlier, and enclosed the boy into a tight hug.

 

Matt’s laughter simmered down against his shoulder. Arms thrown around his neck, the boy’s chest heaved with delight and he settled like he wasn’t planning on letting go for the rest of the night. Shiro stroked an absurd pattern on his back, caught up on the words unsaid.

 

“Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for everything-”

 

Shiro could practically feel the boy frowning against his neck. 

“Shiro, not now-”

 

“-I love you”.

 

That stopped Matt on his tracks. He pondered the confession, of how easily those words left the man’s lips when given a permission. He must have been waiting for a long time to say them. But the matter was given a body through those words; by saying it out loud it became _so_ real it made the boy shiver.

“I know”. Matt breathed out. No matter how frightening, he wanted to make it clear. Even if they were to die tomorrow in that intergalactic war that raged outside their doorstep; even if it was just for tonight, he wanted it. The future was uncertain, and therefore even more than walking alone he was afraid of walking side by side with somebody he loved. The fear of losing would always haunt him, but he would cope; for he had learned from Shiro how vulnerability could be turned into a strength.

 

_Saying it out loud will make it real._

 

 

“...I love you too”.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello new readers! Just fyi: the title's 'Guilt and Regret' regret is Shiro as in what he _didn't do_ , and guilt is Matt as in what he _did_. I tried to follow that pattern in chapter 2, too.


End file.
